


To Be Named

by InsecurelyPerfect



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: It gets a lot more graphic with graphic accounts of suicide and abuse in chapter 4, M/M, Modern AU, To be named is called it because trans reasons not because it needs to be names, i sent this to my English teacher I'm that proud of it, i will warn it, it takes a long time to get to the relationships, theres hella french In the first chapter I don't remember and I'm so so so sorry for that, this is actual trash, trans!alex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10072184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsecurelyPerfect/pseuds/InsecurelyPerfect
Summary: Transgender Alexander Hamilton surviving in New York during college times early in his transition.What could go wrong?





	1. New Beginnings

-John's POV-  
Great. Already late for class and on the first day as well! Fuck, I'm such a mess! I scrambled to get to my class without spilling my coffee and immediately got scolded by the teacher. 

"Mr. Laurens! Nice of you to finally join us. Take a seat and find out what you missed and copy the notes off the whiteboard, please." I flushed, noticing how many of the students were staring at me, actually, it was everyone except for this one girl who was furiously scribbling in her notebook. I scanned the room and the only empty seat was the one next to her, so I sighed and made my way to the seat. 

By the time I got there, she had finished copying her notes and was writing something else in a different notebook and I glanced at her. She had long, wavy hair and deep brown eyes. Then her notebooks. Small, delicate writing, yet messy. I notice a name written in sharpie at the top: Alexandria Hamilton. 

I nudged her with my elbow, knowing no other way to get her attention. "Pst, Alexandria, can I borrow your notes?" She stopped writing. She turned towards me, already with fake happiness. Fuck. How did I screw up now?

"What? Did you call me?" Her voice was venom and laced with extra poison. Her mouth rested in a hard line and her jaw clenched. 

"Um, Alexandria?"

She frowned, clearly not happy with what I called her. My eyes knit together. "Please, call me Alexander or Alex."

I shrugged, still confused. "Okay, Alexander. May I borrow your notes?"

She smiled and made a sounded that sounded oddly like an orgasm and I freaked out for a moment. She grabbed her notes and cheerfully handed them over to me. "Here you go!" 

I shook off what happened and continued with writing her notes so I could give her her notebook. Shortly after I had started writing, class had ended. I turned to give Alexander her notes back, but she held a hand up. "Keep it. Finish when you can and if it's not during class, then you can come to my dorm and give it to me then, but I would like my notebook in class so I can stay on top of notes. My dorm number is D207," she spoke quickly but understandably. I nodded, until the room number processed with me. 

"Did you say D207?"

"Yes, why?"

"That's my dorm as well."

She nodded. "Well, I'll see you later. Why weren't you there last night, if you don't mind my asking?"

I'm sharing my room with a girl? How the fuck did the college allow that? "Hello? Laurens? Laurens!" Her sharp voice snapped me out of my trance. I shook my thoughts. 

"Oh! Sorry. Family emergency." She nodded. 

"Well, I don't want to be late, so I'll see you later, roomie!"

*  
I tried to get through the rest of the day, trying to focus on copying and colour coding Alexander's notes. Then lunch time rolled around and I met up with my friends Hercules and Lafayette for sushi. I was telling them about Alexander while picking at my California Roll. "Yeah, I don't know. It's really weird; the college is putting a girl with the boys. I mean, I am gay, so no worry about that, but it's strange."

Lafayette was preoccupied with some project he already had for his photography club, so he wasn't paying attention. However, Hercules was. "What's her name?" I was about to give it to them when Lafayette has shouted something that grabbed my attention. 

"Monsieur Alexander! How've you been, mon ami?"

"Bonjour, Lafayette. Je suis bien. Légèrement fatigué. L'école est déjà l'enfer." She responded and Lafayette laughed. 

"Oui. Collège est comme ça, mon homme." 

Herc looked at me. "Do you understand what they're saying?" I nodded. 

"Alexander said school's hell and Laf said college is like that," I translated. She finally acknowledged I was there and waved. 

"Hey roomie!" Laf and Herc looked at each other and burst out laughing. 

"Dude, oh my god," Herc wheezed. "A-Alex-Alex isn't a girl, my friend," he explained before resuming laughing. "He's trans. Alex I hope you don't mind I told him, he just thought you were a girl." A further explanation came when Hercules had stopped laughing enough. 

Alexander sat next to me, his hand on the back of the chair. "Y-you aren't disgusted, are you?" 

"No, of course not! I just feel bad for misgendering you. I'm so sorry, dude. It was early, I'm not that bright, your physique is femme -- no offense -- and I assumed. It'll never happen again." I stuck put my hand to shake on being cool with him and he declined. Instead he embraced me in a hug which I melted into. 

"John! Dude, let go, creep!" Herc scolded and I blushed. Turning his attention to Alex, he said, "don't mind this one. He hasn't had physical contact with anyone that good in over three years, so don't worry about him. He's also an attention hog."

I stopped hugging Alexander and my best threatening face to Hercules to get him to shut up. "What?" He defended. "I toLd you Alexander's personal thing, it's only fair for him to know. Only playin' fair, my dude." Hercules bit into his sushi, which had a thin layer of green covering the entire sushi roll. 

"Jesus, dude. How do you eat wasabi so easily? It's like setting a spice bonfire in your mouth!" I exclaimed, watching in amusement as he ate it effortlessly. Alex gaped in awe. I chuckled. "Never seen someone do that before, now, have you?" He just shook head. "Yeah, heh, with Hercules Mulligan, this is a regular thing, leaving us all of us in awe."

"Shit, man. No way."

"You've gotta see him eat the jalapeños!" Lafayette screamed, finally participating in conversation. "He is able to eat the most out of all us, and sometimes we invite Thomas Jefferson and James Madison over to see if they can out eat him. Jefferson is able to get to seven before giving up and going for the milk and bread and everything that absorbs the spice."

"So how many does Hercules eat?" Alex asked, his voice getting a little higher with the question.

"He eats more each year. Currently? I believe it's . . . Thirteen?" I asked in question, waiting for confirmation of being correct or incorrect by my friends. If Hercules kept impressing Alex, Alex's jaw would unhinge and actually drop to the ground in astonishment. I glanced at Herc, who kept slathering his sushi with wasabi and plopping them in his mouth leaving his mouth in smirk. 

We kept trying out impress each other with other weird and abnormal talents with Hercules' ability to eat wasabi taking the cake every time for the rest of lunch. 

*  
I didn't have another class until 3:45 and it was only 1:00, so I figured I would go to my dorm room and start unpacking and getting myself situated. When I walked in, I saw what I was hoping to never see and what I was never expecting to see. 

Alex's shirt was off and he didn't have a bra or anything so his chest was exposed while he was jumping on the bed while dancing and singing into a hairbrush along with Brendon Urie. 

"Sorry," I muttered hastily and left the room headed to mine. Shortly, there was a knock at my door. "You decent?" I called, not wanting to have that encounter again. 

"Yeah, sorry about that. I have my binder on. I was just taking a shower and was getting dressed, and as you could see, I got a little distracted. Sorry if I freaked you out. I promise I didn't mean to. Um, heads up, though: I hate wearing my binder and shirts and stuff, so don't be alarmed. Since I'm a male, I believe I have a male's chest, despite feeling that way, so you can look. It's okay. I promise, John."

I opened the door, noticing how I towered over him and he was significantly smaller than I. "There's something I should tell you. I'm gay." Alex only stood, not saying anything. Eventually he slowly walked toward me, wrapping his arms around my torso, pulling me in for another hug. We stood there fore a few moments, rocking us back and forth, swaying as if we were in the ocean and the current were moving us.

What broke us apart was a knock at the door. "I'll get it," Alex murmured into my chest, unraveling himself from my body, leaving me with an absence of warmth as he grabbed a shirt to cover his curves and opened the door. "Bonjour, Monsieur! Entrez!"

"Pourquoi ne vous regardez comme si vous étiez putain du monsieur Lauens, Hamilton?" I now heard Lafayette's voice so I figured I should join them. 

"Taire! J'étais sous la douche!" Alex defended 

"Alors pourquoi, mon ami couché, est-vous les cheveux secs?" Laf laughed. 

"Jamais entendu parler d' un sèche-cheveux?" Alexander retorted, snarking.

"Pourquoi sont les deux de vous parler en français? Je reçois que Laf est français, mais il est vraiment inutile puisque nous parlons tous français et vous n'êtes même pas rein de personnel dis," I butted in. The pair looked at me, seemingly forgetting I was there. 

Lafayette peered at me grumpily. Alex shrugged, placing a gentile hand on my shoulder. "Laf, he has a point. Hercules isn't here, so it's not fun. Besides even if he was, Laurens would translate the French for him anyway."

Lafayette continued to pout. "English isn't fun. Everyone at King's Cross understands it, aside from the French teachers when we speak French."

"I know, Lafayette, dèsolè." Alex moved to Lafayette and kissed his cheek, taking me by surprise. 

"Oh, are you two dating?" I questioned. 

"Ha! No. I'm just a," Alex walked back to me and ran a finger down my torso, "flirty kinda guy." 

Shivers ran up my spine. "Oh, okay. Sorry for jumping to conclusions."

"Why so curious? You. . . .jealous?" Alex seduced and my cheeks heated. 

"No! Of course not! Why would I be jealous of my best friends dating? That's just ridiculous!" 

"I was joking. Chill." Alexander laughed and Lafayette caught my eye. His stare read "we need to talk," and I gulped, nodding unnoticed by Alexander, thank god. 

I was scared to talk to Lafayette, but I knew I needed to. There was also no way of getting out of it, he was going to force me whether I felt like talk or not. Literally if I had my tongue chopped off, he'd still make me talk. If I were on my deathbed, he'd make me procrastinate my own death so that I would be able to talk with him. God, he has non-stop determination that I envied. 

I got through a couple more hours before it became night fall and we had to figure out what we were doing for dinner tonight. "Hey did Lafayette or Hercules say anything to you about getting together for dinner?"

"No," Alex called, still tapping away at his laptop. "Speaking of dinner, what do you want or are you in the mood for? I lived on my own for a few years, so you can bet I wasn't going out every night. I learned how to make a lot so I can pretty much make whatever you want," he offered. 

I smiled. "Thanks, but I was going to suggest making something as well for the same reason. I got kicked out for being gay, and refusing to answer to the nickname that my family had given me, and my dad was not having that, so out I went and honestly, I enjoyed being on my own. Anyway, I can make dinner tonight so you can continue doing work. We can also invite Laf, Herc, James, or Thomas or all of them if you want. Okay?"

He shrugged. "Only if you feel like having them over. I really don't have a preference, but as for what to have for dinner, can we have spaghetti and meatballs? Only if that's alright with you."

"Why set yourself up for rejection? There's no need to. The pasta actually sounds really good right now."

"Eh. I'm just used to it. Sorry I'll try to refrain from doing it."

I nodded, flicking on the TV, and turning on a cartoon.

Alex shut his laptop, turning his full attention to the TV in awe and confusion. "What show is this?" 

I looked up and thought for a moment. "Teen Titans. The original. The new version sucks ass, dude. Ninety percent of the time the original is so much better it's quite great to see the remake or sequel and they're hilariously sucky."

I stood in the kitchen making the pasta while Alex watched the show for about a good fifteen minutes before he spoke up again. "Actually, can we invite Jefferson and Madison? I want to meet them. They seem chill."

"Eh. They're not that great and I hate Jefferson, seeing as he can be quite rude at times. Madison's alright. I sit next to him in writing without Jefferson and he's a lot of fun to talk to. I'll shoot them a text."

To: James Mads

Hey. I don't know if you still have my number saved. It's John Laurens. My roommate wants to meet you. Feel like inviting Jefferson to come over and having spaghetti and meatballs with some alcohol I snuck in and get to know each other better?

Shortly after came his response. 

From: James Mads

HEYYY, Laurens! I was wondering if I would hear from you! I would love to come over! Unfortunately, Thomas is sick with the flu already and can not join us. I would still like to come if you don't mind, and take some food back to my dorm if you don't mind for him. Yeah, it sounds like fun. Just let me know your dorm and I'll be right over.  
To: James Mads 

Great! We're D207! I'll see you soon. Tell Thomas I hope he feels better and feel free to take with you whatever you please!

*read 6:37 pm*

"Okay, so I just have to make the meatballs and then dinner will be ready. Also, Jefferson is sick so he can't come but Madison is still joining us and will be here shortly."

"Mm," came the response from Alex. 

We were silent again until a knock was wrapped on the door. Alex hopped up from his seat on the floor and raced to answer the door as if he was trying to catch a wild goose. No surprise, it was James at the door, and something to know about him: he usually wears sweats all the time. I think this was the first time I had ever seen him even remotely dressed up, and we both went to our high school graduation. Alex led him to where I was in the kitchen, making the pasta and half paying attention to the T.V., which was now displaying the news. 

Alex had some trouble reaching the plates and glasses with how short he was, but he eventually got three of each down while James sat that the island, watching silently. None of us were saying anything, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. In fact, I typically preferred the quiet over chatter. 

The first thing said was by James, who had finally noticed Alex's cat socks. "My roommate, Thomas, he has the same pair. Wears them non stop, but somehow they're never dirty."

That got Alexander chuckling as I finished off our pasta, putting the sauce and meatballs on them, then serving. As if we had all known, as if we were a flock of birds moving to the south for the winter, we all migrated toward the living room.

As we sat there, eating our dinner and talking, when Lafayette Skype called us, I looked outside, and what faced me was a beautiful sunset, and that was my sign. My sign that this would be a good year. That this year, I would feel like I belonged. Sunsets are weird like that. They set off a sense of happiness and security, and this one was one I trusted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pancakes, trans issues, and photography

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is very late I am sorry.

-Alex's POV-  
Sure, we all have our bad days, thinking the next day will be better, and then they're not. For me, that was usually the case. However, I have my rare occasions where that is not how it works and thankfully today and yesterday was one of those day sets where it was a shitty day and then the next it was significantly better. 

Yesterday, I woke up late, was late to my first class and then I was misgendered by a stranger for three hours until he found out I'm his roommate. Then I got stopped by a police officer when I was at the bookstore because I was trying to research some books on Wars and bombs and I was on the phone, so he mistook it as me attempting to cause harm. 

Today, however, I woke up half an hour early and saw Laurens coming back from the gym and since we were both up, we went downtown to a little pancake house titled "Revolutionary Pancakes" to grab breakfast. While there, we discovered our history professor's wife owned the place and Laurens and I made a pact to go there every morning. It was a pleasant place. Quiet with grumpy men ordering coffee and hastily leaving, college students downing their sixth cup of espresso while typing their essays due in a couple hours with their music so loud you can hear it through their buds. 

It wasn't busy, but it also wasn't dead so John and I were seated quickly. Just sitting there I took in the sent of butter and warmth mixed with the bitter scent of coffee beans and I was taken back to my hometown on the Caribbean and how I used to work at a coffee shop there until I could make it here for college. How the aroma followed me after work and stuck to my clothes. My dog would always know I was home when he could smell the coffee and lemon cake that inevitably attached itself to me. 

I had a hard time back in the Caribbean, but I also actually missed it. Sometimes, I'd rather be there, somewhere I'm familiar with. Where I know to go. Where I know that if I take that left next to the library, I'll be at Mom and Dad's Bakery, versus here, where I can't tell left from right. Having the boys here with me helped a little bit, but it's still confusing for me to figure the directions out in the hustle and bustle of the city. 

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice that our food had arrived until Mrs. Washington and Laurens whispering back and forth in a seemingly angry way had caught my attention. I stared at them, confused, blankly. "What did I miss?"

Mrs. Washington placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, smiling softly, with a hint of pain in her eyes. "Nothing, young man. Don't worry about it." She walked away briskly, but not before asking if I wanted any sugar on my cinnamon bun or in my coffee. I declined, and she winked at Laurens before leaving again. 

Cutting my fork into my bun, acting like it was a knife, I made little eye contact with john, but occasionally flicked my eyes up at him to read the emotions in his face. "So, John, I know you won't lie to me. What actually happened that got you both so upset?" He froze slightly, shaking it off nearly as quickly as it washed over him. He smiled. 

"Nothing, Alex, really. You're fine, I'm fine, nothing's going on. It's fine."

Knowing I wasn't going to get much more out of him, I gave up, digging back into the breakfast. "So, how're you adjusting to college so far?"

The question took me off guard, causing me to choke on my coffee. John isn't one for speaking a lot, and sure not one of those people to make small talk. I've only known him for about a day, but he's an open book. And while the question is seemingly simple, it is not. It is very in depth and not something I'd never guess him to ask. 

Pretending like I never choked, I responded. "Um, so far it's kicking my ass a little bit, but it kicks everyone's, but I'm not failing yet, so that's good. Then again, it's literally only the second day of school so how could I possibly fail. Fuck, sorry I'm rambling." A nervous chuckle followed my previous statement, proving my point of rambling. 

Laurens watched me word vomit, drinking his coffee with his eyebrows raised. "You okay there?"

"Ha, yeah. . .I don't really go out like this with other people, and they don't ask anything, so it's new, but it's okay. I'm okay."

"I'm glad." Laurens flashed a smile, showing off his pearly whites, and the way he smiled - it was like the sun. His smile was so warm and beautiful. Actually, even him just looking at me makes me feel safe. He's one of those few people to have that effect on people, where they seem nice and you fall under a spell with how wonderful they appear, but they're really a nightmare. However, with John, I can tell that's not the case at all. 

Shit. This cannot be happening. No. Fuck, this was my parents one fucking concern, and it's happening now. Damn it. Of course you fall for your roommate. Who's gay, and probably won't like you because, you know, you were born a girl? Damn it, Alex, why do you have to be such a screw up? Can't you do one thing right? Shit, he's looking at you. Breathe and listen to him.

"You okay there, Alexander? You seemed a little bit zoned out."

I giggled lightly and felt a warmth spread across my cheeks and nose, up to my ears. Laurens is definitely smart enough to know what's up and catch on. I nodded lightly, downing a huge gulp of my coffee to avoid talking for a few minutes.

We stayed in Revolutionary Pancakes for about another ten minutes before heading out. We were quiet, but the crunching leaves underneath our sneakers wasn't. Neither were the laughing children playing on the park equipment until they cried because they injured themselves. However, the quiet soothed me. I have to have some background noise, and the kids were the noise in this situation, but it was relaxing. John and I were just walking, taking in the fall scents of pumpkins, Neosporin, and cool air with pumpkin foods and drinks came in whiffs as people huffed past us on their way to work. 

We got to a spot in the park where the sun hit everything perfectly. It shone brightly and formed a shadow of the biggest tree, branches waving in the wind, leaves rustling and making howling noises as the wind flew between the gaps. The park was captured perfectly in that shadow, seeing as there was also a little boy skipping past with ice cream while another little girl chased after him, holding a ball. The moment was just too perfect to not take a picture of.   
While I was majoring in English, I was minoring in photography, seeing as it always struck an interest with me, and this was the perfect opportunity to start taking pictures for my project. I abruptly stopped in my tracks, whipped out my phone and started snapping pictures. At first I had thought that John had gone ahead, but then i saw his outline in the picture. His school varsity jacket flying off of his body in the wind, hair in his face, and I noticed his head was in my direction. 

I stopped. Looked at him. Breathing stopped. The sun was perfect around him. It made him look as if he were glowing. I absentmindedly raised my phone at him and snapped a couple more. I was practically drooling. His confused look, however, told me everything that I needed to know: that I was being weird and needed to stop. 

I couldn't help not taking mental pictures. Laurens moved his head so he could properly look at me. “Why are you staring at me like I've grown a tree out of my ear?”

I barely heard him over the sound of my heart thumping against my ribcage, trying to flee out of my body and embrace the man. The sunlight wrapped him in a hug and he looked like he'd known the sun his whole life. John was a beautiful man with a beautiful opportunity, and with the two working side-by-side, the outcome was gorgeous. 

“Photo op,” I winked, waving my phone in his face.

He pressed his lips together in a tight line. His jaw was hardened cement and his eyes were buckets filled with determination. He outstretched his hands. The ones that were going for my phone, so I had to dodge. Unfortunately for me, John was significantly faster than I was. I was no match for his strength and flexibility. He grabbed my phone out of my hands, swiftly and nimbly, so feline like it was unnatural. He deleted the photo and shortly after my hand was left empty, it was filled again with the weight of cool and thin metal. 

“That was quite the dance you did there, John,” I commented, hoping to gain an explanation in response. 

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, bowing his head down slightly. “Yeah, I really gained an interest in ballet when I was a kid. I got really good at it too. Was gonna go to nationals as well. Top of the class.”

I shoved him in amazement. I’d never met anyone do anything as cool as that. 

“No way! Why’d you stop?”

“Well, first, I didn’t stop. Second, it wasn’t my choice. My dad pulled me from nationals two days before, and before I applied to the best ballet school in the country, he stopped me. Grabbed my application and tore it up, saying I would never be able to. How I was just a word I’m not comfortable repeating, but it’s a slur. And that no son of his would be an insert ugly slur here.” He kept his head down, refusing to meet my eyes. He slowly lifted his head up and the sun outlined him perfectly. The heartbreak he had to go through at that extreme of a level was thankfully nothing I had ever had to face before. Sure, my family and I had had our fair share of misunderstanding my transitioning greatly, but never to that extent. It made me appreciate my parents further. 

I brought out my hand and gently placed it against his arm, kind. “How soon is too soon to adopt someone?”

John chuckled, placing his hand over mine, and it felt warm. It reminded me of the cookies my mother used to make around the holidays before her passing. I was so young, how I even remember that is incredible. John Lauren’s created such a sense of security I wanted him to wrap me up in a huge hug and just never let go of me. He could protect me from all of the evil in the world. He’d be my knight in spilled coffee. 

I said that because not two seconds after picturing him dreamily as a knight decked out in shingling armor, sexily removing his helmet and just letting his hair go free, I tripped on a random curb and spilled my coffee all over his nice, new, white shirt. “Fuck!”

He laughed, and then screamed in pain as the heat settled itself into his body and he made the pain known to his skin. “Damn, Alex, you’re pretty clumsy, aren’t you?”

I dropped my head, allowing it to sag, like I had done something wrong. I mean, technically, I had, but I didn’t want to accept that with how hot John was. Literally and physically. I just didn’t know how to handle myself around him. I generally hadn’t known how to handle myself around really cute boys I just happened to run into in public, but now, this was my roommate, I had to not seem like a total spaz if I wanted him to even think about considering me as a dating contender.

I honestly would not have been able to tell you why this was so important to me, I really wish it wasn’t so important because then I’d seen as super shallow, and generally I liked to try and get to know guys before I dated them. As much as people would like to say, I was not superficial. Assholes, all of them. None of them knew how to treat others as actual human being nor had the slightest idea on how they even worked.

John brought us to the nearest shop with a bathroom and he walked in, holding the door for me to follow him through. I definitely felt awkward as I was in there. I never truly had someone to look over me, but the foster care I had been put in when it caught word around my school that I had a cousin that killed himself and was on my own, some kids told their parents, and those parents called Social Services and they placed me in a home, the family was accepting when I came out, but they had not allowed me to utilize the boy’s bathroom while I was under their roof because they were afraid I would get hurt and they didn’t want that. Nonetheless it definitely felt extremely awkward in the bathroom I had been in three other times in my life, and I wasn’t about to protest, but I chuckled nervously, hoping John wouldn’t pull anything, not that he was the type to, nor that another man would walk in, take one look at me, and either hurt me or abuse me into getting “out of the wrong bathroom, f****t.”

“I. . . I think I might sit out here, if, uh, if you don’t mind,” i blushed. My heart was racing and I was unable to form complete and full thoughts.   
John’s face reddened. “Oh, yeah, no. That, that makes sense, I just wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.”

I reached my hand out to touch his shoulder. “John, don’t worry.” I flashed him a smile, hoping he knew it wasn’t a big deal and I felt his shoulders relax. 

He went in and I had to figure out what to do with myself, so it didn’t seem like I was creepily waiting for him to come out, although that was exactly what I was doing. Not that anyone else needed to know that. 

I found a nice spot against the wall, and I leaned up against it, placing my right foot on the wall but keeping my left foot planted on the ground. I jutted out my hips a little forward and I pulled out my phone. I kept my head down, and tried to make it seem inconspicuous, so no one would think I was a stalker. I’d wait for a few people to come out and then when John came out I’d wait a few seconds before trailing behind him and. . . and I am putting way too much thought into how I was going to walk away from him. 

Well, that’s me for you. Someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing so he tries to make it seem not awkward, when really it’s the most awkward thing you’ll see in your life, but I suppose that’s why I’m a people person. I don’t do well on my own. Only when I’m writing or photographing. I never really liked being on my own, so when my mother passed away when I was young, it first of all was heartbreaking because the woman who brought me into this world and gave me my life and personality and made me the gentleman I am today was gone forever, and second of all because I would be on my own. 

My father left us when my mother told him she was pregnant. He bolted that night. Went to the bar and never came back. . . So much for reliable sources. And my brother was so much older than me that he could live on his own and when I was born he was in college. I had only seen him a couple times and I knew he definitely doesn’t want to deal with taking care of his so much younger brother. Being alone at the age of eleven had been a little bit traumatic for me. I was twelve when they found me living on my own, and sent me to live with my cousin, since my brother had rejected my staying with him. Unfortunately, my cousin had killed himself when I was only fourteen and I had finished up high school myself, and made it to college on my own, so I’m going to have to get used to living with someone else again. 

Out of anyone in the world, I’m glad John was going to be the person I’m forced to room with and getting me used to rooming again. What, with the way he allowed most things and he was alright with the fact that I’m a trans guy, and he was extremely understanding. John was honestly my ideal person to be friends with, and maybe even being in a relationship with. However, if I were going to go about creating a relationship with him, I would have to be careful, move slowly, and make sure I’m not moving things too fast. 

I had started planning my thoughts, organizing how to go about getting John to see me as more than a friend when he came out of the bathroom, nudging me with his elbow, shaking with mirth. He started to pass me, dragging my hand with him, so I would trail behind him. God, he was so alluring, I felt myself falling deeper and deeper in a trance the more I thought about how tranquil it felt to capture his hands in mine. How captivating his blue eyes were. 

Shaking my head visibly, John laughed. “You okay there, buddy?”

I pressed my lips together tightly in a thin line before pushing a smile passed my glowering expression and he shook his head, leading me toward the exit. 

—

The rest of the day was pretty bland, beautiful, but not exactly eventful. We walked around the park for a little bit and took more photos of daffodils and other flowers we found around fountain with a stone pig in it. Out of all of the animals in the world, that was the one they chose to go with. We had also passed a family of ducklings so I got some aesthetic, sunlit pictures as well. Also walking down a cracked sidewalk with weeds popping out from between the cracks, uneven, and having to watch your step to make sure you didn’t fall, we found this quaint little bakery. They had these adorable petit cupcakes with these adorable iridescent nonpareils sprinkled perfectly on top of the sky blue icing. I managed to steal a few snap shots from with blurry cakes in the background, the cupcake the main focus of the photo. 

I also snapped a few candid of John when he wasn’t looking, though I think he knew, but if he did, he didn’t say anything. The only thing I knew, or that I really cared about, was that I was a studious person and I was not about to not to start my final for my photography class, I just had to finalize my thoughts and start putting it together. 

I had a feeling that, with John’s help, I would crush this project, despite it only being the second day of school.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Random detail of how cold it is :,)I know a lot of big words are thrown in here I just needed words for camp nano.

-John’s POV-

I had been getting to know Alexander for the past couple weeks and it was pretty great. His favorite food had to be broccoli, becuase it made him feel dominant and much bigger than everything and it helped him execute his anxiety, he didn’t have a favorite holiday — he hated them all equally, his least favorite topic to learn about in math was anything equilateral, he had quite the exuberant personality, and he had a knack for writing. He was able to do it quickly, elegantly, and it was phenomenal how he was able to still make all of his words flow together and make them seem like they belonged there. 

While Alexander experienced such extravagant interests and desires, mine were fairly basic. I find comfort and sameness in turtles. I relate to them, how I always have something on my back and it acts as protection both physically and emotionally. See, I had this phase, when I was five. I was obsessed with turtles and I had this great epiphany: I was going to be a turtle. Alexander was just so much more of a complex person than I had anticipated, and I was honestly a little nervous to tell him that I thought I had wanted to be a turtle when I grew up and that the obsession had stuck when I was hanging up framed photos of turtles around the house.

And that's what I was thinking about when I hadn't been paying attention when I was in English, and not taking my notes as I was watching Alexander take his notes. He wrote them so flawlessly, quickly, and I was still able to read them even after they were done being written, it was like he had taken a very long time to write them. He color coded them and he organized his notes so neatly. So, instead of really listening and knowing what I was supposed to be doing and how I was supposed to analyze whatever soliloquy our professor was trying to tell us to do. I had excessively low interest in listening to the rules we were supposed to follow while going about this. The only thing that had brought me out of my trance was the girl next to me who was angrily stabbing my arm with her unnecessarily sharpened pencil that was digging into my arm, probably bleeding, and at the very least was going to be the cause of a nasty bruise, all because I had not taken the papers from her quick enough for her liking. 

I glanced at it, and all I saw were small printed words and a staple in the top right corner, telling me this was a multiple page assignment, which I wasn’t thrilled about, to say the least. I passed the papers to Alex, and he took them, giggling lightly. 

“Oh, no. Why are you looking at me like that?”

His face was scrunched up, his cheeks puffy from the large smile displaying his teeth that shone brighter than the stars in a night sky. His eyes were kind of shut because of how big his smile was, and his whole face was radiating positivity and happiness. I had no idea why he was so thrilled, but I wasn’t on a quest to kill it, and I was not excited at the idea that he was looking at me and laughing. It found it to be a little bit of a conundrum, though I do know there are more pressing matters in the world. 

Alex’s smile only grew. “Just laughing at your face.” He paused, realizing what he said. “Oh, that sounds bad. You look so horrified. Are you alright?”

I forced my face to relax. “Hmm,” I hummed. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just. . .wasn’t listening to the lecture is all,” I admitted. To my surprise, Alexander laughed again. A blush creeped across my cheeks, tinting my freckles red, going as low as my neck and as high as my ears. He caught me off guard and I demanded, “What?!”

Taking a minute to catch his breath, his laughing subsided and he faced me seriously again. “Nothing, nothing. It’s just. . .I’m not your parent. You don’t need to feel so badly about not listening, although, you’re only hurting yourself in the long run.”

I looked over the packet one more time as I listened to Alex’s voice. “All the information is there, don’t worry. And when we get back to the dorm, I can share my notes, and I don’t shorthand so. . .you have been warned.” I smiled at him.

“Thank you, Alex. I didn’t mean to not take notes, I just got a little distracted is all.”

He shook his head and passed a notebook to me. His notes were detailed. Highlighted, different colored pens (lavender, red, yellow, and green), indents, paragraphs, bullet points, dashes, sub notes. All carefully written, no scribbles, no doodles in the margins, he titled all of his pages, marked at the top where they were in the books. It was incredible. He had filled up six pages of notes. I glanced over at him and his page with the soliloquy on it and he had perfect handwriting with annotations and was already moving toward the essay section. I must have looked at the notes for longer than I had originally thought, because there was no physically possible way for him to write that much in a couple of minute, no matter how fast his hand could move, even if it was in cursive. 

Alex stopped writing mid word. Oh, no. I think he noticed I had been looking at him. Hopefully he didn’t. If he had there was no doubt he thought I was weird. I could honestly go without him thinking that about me.

I quickly glanced back down at the notes, despite the fact that I kind of really enjoyed looking at him. He made me chest feel electric and warm at the same time. I didn’t like him, at least not yet, but he was cute, and I could recognize that fact. 

He definitely caught me staring, despite me being a great actor and knowing that it’d be impossible for me to have not been reading these notes the whole time. 

Alex looked like he was about to say something, and he had even opened his mouth to do so, but at that exact moment he got cut off. Our professor had started speaking again, and this time I actually paid attention.

I gave Alex his notebook back so he could continue taking notes and I started taking my own. Of course, mine would never be as good as Alexander’s but I was just getting the information, and that was what I cared about the most.

That’s pretty much how the rest of class was, until the bell, and our professor finishing up his thoughts before kids scrambled out of the room. By the time he finished, half of the class was gone, but Alex was still finishing up what he was writing, hanging on to every word the professor said. The effort he put into his school work was admirable, and at the same time, if it was watched, it would be deemed adorable. 

I silently stood, my backpack strap draped over one of my shoulders. I waited for him to complete his notes, to put down the multicolored pens and pack up his notebooks and papers. I’d wait for him as long as I needed to.

Neither of us had class next so we would both be going back to our dorm, and I wouldn’t make sense if I left without him. 

His clean up was slow and quiet. Neither of us spoke a word. We were even quiet leaving the room and starting our walk. 

The leaves fell surrounding us with yellow, red, and even brown. The air was chilly, and it was evident winter was coming. 

There were sorority girls all around, in clumps, drinking their Starbucks triple macchiato topped with whipped cream and strawberry syrup, six pumps each. Their Ugg boots dug into the hardening ground as they laughed and posted selfies on Instagram. It was honestly a little unbelievable seeing a bunch of college juniors acting like sixteen year old girls who’s best times were gossiping about how their hottest crushes were kissing other girls and leading them on over milkshakes at retro restaurants. 

Aside from them, there were the frat guys trying to carry beers under their shirts and tucking vape pens in their pockets and in the tops of their socks. Wearing thier varsity jackets and thier numbers printed hugely on their backs, tossing around a football and yelling while some of them carried around a keg. 

As there were shouts and laughing girls and squawking crows surrounding us, I heard someone calling my name. It vaguely sounded like an American accent with some hints of a French accent. I wasn't totally sure if I had really recognized the voice. However, it still sounded somewhat familiar, so I turned toward the person shouting quite frankly directly at me.

Looking around, I was greeted with a blinding toothy grin of my dear friend, Lafayette. When my eyes made contact with his arrival on campus, the vague French accent made a lot more sense. Lafayette frequently had a difficult time yelling and still sounding like he's lived in France his whole life. Since he moved here to America when he was nine from Chavaniac-Lafayette, his accents has somewhat faded and became more and more faint each year that he was here, so especially at increased volumes, unless he's screaming in French, he sounded American.

Lafayette was a thin guy. Everyone I knew that saw him was instantly jealous of how thin his calves were. Which I always found to be quite hilarious since his diet mostly included ice cream for every meal he could and he never worked out. Fast metabolism, I suppose. That man was somehow also never cold, and today was proof of that. He was dressed in a tank top with a cat skateboarding, drinking a milkshake on it, and he had paired it with a pair of tan khaki shorts and some blue sandals. It was truly a miracle this man didn't get sick more often than he did. And oddly enough, he was carrying a baguette and eating it. He had a bunch of weird French customs I would never understand, and I just assumed this was one of them.

Next to my baguette eating friend, stood my stockier, shorter than Lafayette, but taller than me friend, Hercules. He was wearing a pair of white washed jeans and a maroon sweatshirt with a pair of blue sneakers, not eating a baguette.

"Hey, guys, what's up?" Lafayette's voice was muffled through his munching on the baguette. 

I smiled, shocked I was able to understand him, and I responded, "Nothing much, Alex and I were just about to go to our dorm rooms, would you like to come with us?" 

Lafayette bit into his baguette yet again and made eye contact with Hercules as they evaluated their choices. After a minute or so, mentally agreeing on a decision, they had decided to go along with us.

Lafayette took another bite out of the very dry, very plain French bread and the four of us continued toward the dorm room. however, we didn't do a whole lot of talking, we just weren't sure if there was really anything to talk about, so we walked more or less silently, with the occasional bite of a baguette coming from my left, where Lafayette stood next to me. It was a nice little pass through the campus. It felt like a longer walk than I remembered. It got dark quickly, it got colder, and we were still walking. I had goose bumps up and down my arms, 

"Hey, guys, do you mind if we pick up speed, because I am absolutely freezing, and Laf, I know you;re probably not cold, you French weirdo, but I am, and I would like to make in to the room as quickly as possible, please?" I managed through shivering teeth.

Lafayette laughed and nodded. The other boys picked up pace and moved along side me, also shivering. Not nearly as much as me, but they were clearly cold as well, so we walked as fast as possible. "Dude," Hercules nudged my ribs with his sharp elbow. "Where is your dorm?"

My hands were too busy rubbing up and down my arms to be able to point, so instead I motioned with my nose where we were headed. Thankfully, it was just straight ahead, so it wasn't much more to walk, or at the pace we were walking, it was a lot more like running. Or speed walking. We were just trying to get to the rooms, since the winter air was coming and coming like Speedy Gonzalez. It felt like if I were to turn right around the corner, it would be right there to smack me in the face with a frying pan.

Before any of us had really realized it, or had really processed it, we were feeling the sweet, sweet sensation of the not feeling like I was going to turn into an actual ice cube if I had been out there for any longer than I had been.

My legs felt weak, like they were going to collapse underneath me, and taking my first steps in the building and feeling where I was, I couldn't get used to the feeling of being so cold, feeling the heat beating against my bitter skin, especially not being properly dressed for the weather. In fact, it was so bad I fell to the ground, laying my arms out, as if I were hugging it, embracing it, wanting nothing more than to cuddle up into the comforters on bed and sleep there for a thousand years.

We just had to get there. Not too big of a deal. I just had to get up from the ground, we had to make it to the elevator, and then boom we're on our floor and we can make it to our room and chill out before our next classes, if I felt like going at that point. I knew Alex would have gone either way.

I felt a couple pairs of hands under my armpits and on my shoulders, helping me up from the carpeted ground. Once I was lifted from the dirty floor that looked as if it hasn't been vacuumed or cleaned in thirty years. I had to hold on to the shoulders of Hercules and Alex, since I still wasn't strong enough to stand on my own. How they hadn't fallen over had had amazed me, yet perplexed me at the same time.

However, it had only taken a couple seconds for me to regain my balance and walk on my own. It was only a couple hundred feet further until I made it to the elevator. I just had to make it there. Then it would be alright because I would be able to wrap myself in the bed I had moved against the wall.

Every step was shaky. My knees were wobbly and kept banging together as I was so cold and shivered so much. It actually took us ten minutes to reach the elevator, but we made it there and that was the important thing. We were on our way to comfort and more weather appropriate clothing. After being trapped in a cool metal box for a couple minute, but it's all working towards eternal warmth.

We stood in front of it, shivering, and Lafayette stuffed his baguette in his pocket as we waited for the doors to open. Finally they did, and we were thankfully the only ones trying to get in. We waddled into the container and huddled ourselves in the corner, desperate for body heat.

The lights went out and we stopped moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have a couple chapters for this to post so expect there to be five chapters by the end of the week


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i dont remember what the french means im sorry

-Alex's POV-

Stuck. We were stuck. Stuck in the damn elevator. This was not happening, No way, not a chance in hell, this was not happening, not now, not ever. 

I maybe had a. . .slight issue with being stuck in confined spaces. I was not claustrophobic by any means, but I did not like them. It used to give my cousin a reason to yell at me when he was angry and drunk. I had tried to avoid small rooms for as long as I possibly could, and I had generally been successful with avoiding small areas and this was a huge step back. 

I had two fears. Only two. The dark and these tiny rooms. It was so painstakingly horrible to think about again. I could feel a tightness rising in my chest as both of them were in the same place at once. My esophagus crushed itself as the fear crawled up from the pits of hell and settled in my throat. I felt like I was going to be sick and there was nothing that was going to help calk it down aside from just getting out of that situation, which since the doors were shut closed and we were completely suspended in the air, was quite impossible. I felt as my hands started to quake, shaking uncontrollably, and it was not from the cold this time. I pulled away from the huddle that we were in.

Hercules (I think that was what his name was) noticed. He didn't make a big deal about it, but he also kind of shied away from the rest of the group. I was typically quiet, especially in a group setting, but as a writer it was kind of my entire job to notice the small details, the little things that would help me later on, so when he pulled back and scooted closer to me, I definitely saw that. There was no way for me not to have seen it. 

He eventually made his way in front of me. His voice was low, soft, not intimidating. "Are you alright?"

I knew he didn’t want to hurt me. I knew, but that didn’t stop me from backing away from him. Not after my cousin. I refused to trust after that. I stared at him in horror, nervously sweating, and all of this while I bit my nails.

When I didn't answer him, I saw he lifted his hand out of the corner of my eye. I knew what he wanted to do, but my conscious mind didn't.

I hunched over myself in the opposite corner, holding my arms above my head. Hercules put his hand down and I heard him shuffling to the other corner across from me. "Alex, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

I wanted to believe him, lord did I want to believe him. Every time my cousin would yell at me, he would then hit me, and then he would apologize and take care of me. Because of that, whenever he swore he'd never do it again, I felt inclined to believe him. He was the reason that when I got to learn about alcoholism in school, I thought they were lying when they said it was the problem. That the person needed help. Eventually, he slit his wrists and bled out and died in the bathtub but it was only after I realized he did actually have a disease and that he was the villain of this story. By no means, however, was I the hero. I didn't recognize the signs, nor did I tell anyone, so by the end of it, I was part of the problem. Honestly, I didn't know if I would ever have been able to forgive myself for that.

That was what I always thought about in tight spaces or around alcohol. Those were the things that occupied my mind, as my body was overwhelmed with cold sweat and on my rapidly overheating body.

The dark engulfed my mind and vision. If I couldn't see, my mind went to the monsters. And the monsters of my past abuse was what showed up now. 

None of the boys were huddling anymore. All of their eyes were laser trained on me. They watched my every move with caution, as if they were afraid I was going to lash out. I didn't necessarily blame them, but i had only known them for a few weeks, I hadn't told them about my cousin. 

Their harsh stares had only made the panic attack intensified so as my heart skipped beats, I placed my hand on my abdomen and turned away from them so I could focus on calming myself down. I just had to regulate my breathing and realize I was not, in fact, actually about to die.

I felt a hand placed on my back. The hand was rather small for a boy's, but I had a small back and body, so his hand covered most of it. It felt soft as it rubbed comfortingly. The sense of familiarity lead me to believing it was John (also I had held his hand before once because that man was always freezing his damn ass off). Despite the growing warmth in my chest at the thought of John helping me, I shifted my body under his touch to let him know that was a bad move. The hand was gone, and even though I was sweating, the missing heat from the other human left a sense of chilliness on my back that I did not particularly enjoy.

There were whispers. No doubt what about: my weird reactions and what to do. You didn't have to be a genius to figure that out. . . Suddenly, a louder whisper. A whisper that I was intended to hear, since it was directed at me, "Alexander."

I stayed still. I moved my hand around on my abdomen. Being quiet was my best bet, to not give anything that I wasn't comfortable sharing away just yet. The voice repeated, "Alexander."

I shifted, moving myself outwards. I kept my eyes glued shut, so I could at least pretend it was dark on my terms and I wasn't forced to be in the dark, as I kept my eyes closed so it’d be an easier pill to swallow. Despite there now being a small source of light, it wasn’t a lot, and I could tell it was fighting heroically through a sea of endless darkness and it wasn’t from the top of the elevator. 

A soothing French voice spoke up. Lafayette’s Voice. “Alexander, tu sont un lion, mais tu sont petit. Tu sont mon petit lion.” I could feel my shoulders becoming less tense as I unclenched my tightened muscles. He continued in English: “You are so brave.” Lafayette paused and he was next to me, leaning his bony shoulder on mine. “Et je ne sais pas pourquoi tu as tellement peur mais tu n'as aucune raison d'avoir peur.” French was always something that immediately calmed me down. “We are here for you, mon petit lion.”

Hercules’ Voice was low and would be intimidating if you didn’t know what he was saying. “Please open your eyes. We know you’re afraid, but we can help you if you open your eyes and let us help.” I relaxed my eyes so they were no longer tightly shut. I hadn’t realized how painful that had been to do. 

Slowly, I peeled open my eyes and saw the artificial light I sensed had come from the light app on Hercules’ phone. I looked around at the boys I have made friends with, and all of their eyes held a large helping of concern and the scrunched up eyebrows didn't help to disprove that thought of them being super worried about me and my panic attack. 

I could tell all of them wanted to come over here and attack me with hugs and love, but there was genuinely no reason for it, since they had actually helped calm me down more than they would ever truly know, and I could also tell that they were hesitant. Unsure of how to deal with me, just in case I was fragile and about to break again.

They kept their distance, which I was ever so grateful for. I had no interest in being surrounded by sweaty eighteen year old boys that were still figuring out how to manage their showers properly.

"Hey, Alex, please don't feel pressured to answer if you don't want to, but would you tell us what just happened to help clue us in so we know how to help you next time?" John's voice was soft. He was cautious, not wanting to trigger the panic in me again.

I took a deep breath and gazed into all of their eyes one last time before trying to speak. I swallowed harshly and loudly. "Um, yeah, no, it's fine. You guys should probably know just in case I do it again so you'll know how to help me.

"So, it all started when I was twelve years old. My mom died after getting very sick, and my father had bailed on her upon finding out she was pregnant with me, so I didn't have anyone I could live with. Well, that's not totally true. There was my brother, but he was in the middle of high school when I was born and going to college around this time and, like, starting a life with his fiancee and whatever, so he didn't want to take care of his kid brother. That left me totally alone.

"Eventually they found my cousin and sent me to live with him, but what they didn't know, and what I found out shortly after I was sent to live with him was that he was an alcoholic. He definitely had issues with it and when he was hammered, every little thing that I would do that was wrong would set him off and he would be extremely pissed off and it would cause him to pull me into a dark room, really tugging on my limbs. He was by no means was he at all gentile with me. And in the dark room, he would hit me and he would yell at me a lot. Once, he smashed the beer bottle in his hand over my head and it cut my arms and was still half full with alcohol, which then got in my cuts. He was then mad at me for wasting his beer and threw me to the ground, calling me pathetic and a waste of space and everything, right?

"But every damn time after he would hurt me and abuse me, he would apologize, swearing to never drink again, throwing out all of the alcohol in the house, and he would take care of my wounds and swear to me nothing was my fault and that he was a bad cousin. I didn't realize this was a disease or that this was abnormal or a problem until the time I got into ninth grade and we discussed alcoholism and how it affects families.

"It took a very long time and a lot of convincing for me to realize my cousin had been a bad person, that he was not stable enough to have taken care of me, and that every time he promised he wouldn't do it again, it was a lie and he would in fact do it again. So just being back in a small, dark area just brought me back to that. He had killed himself a little bit before I found out what a shitty care taker he was. So he died with me thinking he was a good person when really he was one of the worst people I ever knew, and I had grown afraid of him leading up to his death, but I didn't think he was a bad person."

As I spoke, the boy's faces contorted from concern to horror, looking as if they had seen an actual ghost, and as I had finished my story, John and Lafayette were legitimately crying, although John was sobbing and rocking back and forth. Hercules just stared at me, and I could see the gears turning in his head, figuring everything out, piecing things together, knowing now what he didn't know before.

"Is. . .that why you turned away from me when I lifted my hand? Because you thought I was going to git you?" His voice firm, low.

I cleared my throat. "I knew you weren't going to hit me, but with my past, I couldn't get it out my head that you'd turn on me in an instant and you would hit me. I figured you were trying to lure me, trap me, create a false sense of security and make it too difficult to escape, so I would think you're the best person when you're the worst, and I could not lose that type of trust ever again."

We were silent. The only sounds came from John's nose as he tried to stop his crying. The only people that have ever cried that hard when I told them were either parents or other abuse victims -- not that I really told many people, but still, so I assumed John's dad abused him as well, probably to a lesser extent, or differently, but still abused.

"How long have we been in here?" John asked nasally. He wiped some snot still running from his face with his sleeve. His nose and cheek area were bright red and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy. With his other sleeve, he went to wipe his eyes for, I can only estimate, the thousandth time since he had started crying.

Hercules pulled out his phone. He was always so much more prepared than I was when it came to emergency situations. I had yet to prove it, but I was still convinced that he secretly kept a whole stash of fruit snacks and animal crackers in a hidden pocket of a secret purse. 

A mom. I was calling Hercules a mom.

"um, about thirty minutes."

Wow, it had felt much longer than that, but that was only because I was stuck in my own head, convincing myself that they would start to beat down on me.

Just then, as if it were magic, the lights in the elevator sprung to life and we jolted upwards, we were moving again, thank everything good and holy.


	5. Chapter 5

-John's POV-

Since Alex had come clean to us about his family and his past, everything had kind of changed. Not in a bad way, mind you, but they had definitely in fact changed. He seemed a lot happier, we were able to help out with his panic attacks a lot more, whether they were minor or major, he had started going shirtless around the dorm, fully knowing I wouldn't give less shits as a gay guy, and we had just formed a bond. Kind of like hydrogen bonds to the DNA structure. 

I've known him for about two months now, and I was starting to like him. Like, like him like him, not just like him as a friend. He was so charismatic, caring, strong, intelligent, and he knew how to cheer a guy up: strawberry and vanilla ice cream mixtures with some caramel drizzle on top while watching America's Funniest Home Videos. 

Alex and I had also started going to the gym together and working out and pumping each other up, so that was a lot more fun than going by myself, and Alex had been gaining some serious muscle. He was getting really toned and I honestly think his chest size had actually gotten a bit smaller as well, since I had seen some bras in the trash and he had to go out and buy some more. He was definitely most proud of that, and it was evident because he's been telling me how his binder had been working better than it ever had before.

Alex also got really excited by the little things, such as sand. We went out on a study date once and the restaurant we went to after studying was in a mall, and one of the shops had a sand kit you could purchase in front of it and he darted to it and started sticking his hands in it.

The two of us had also gotten jobs, somehow snagging the same place and same shifts. We were working at a local ice cream shop (Frozen Happiness) and the two of us scooped cones and cups for the customers. It was a little odd how many people came in the winter time, but hey that just means we get to keep our jobs, and because Alex was eighteen and now employed, he was able to afford testosterone, so he was about a month on that, and the changes were pretty significant.

It had helped him lose a ton of weight he would have otherwise struggled to lose, his hair got a little thinner, he had a mini mustache going on, his voice made him sound like he was going through puberty, and his body was becoming more masculine. The changes he was going through were incredible. The boys and I were so glad to see how much more confident he had become since his big transitioning period.

As he had grown to be more masculine, I had been fairly inclined to him. Around him, I truly enjoyed myself and felt like I could be my truest self around him. He made me fearless, despite him being the cause of the millions of tiny little butterflies sprouting in my stomach, flitting their tiny wings, making me anxious, but he also warmed my heart. 

My favorite things to do with Alex was play a couple seconds of a song and see how long he takes to get it, and it usually didn’t take long. We had a similar taste in music — rock mixed with classic Broadway, with a couple more modern ones, so that just made the game that much more interesting to play with him. The best songs to play were from Come From Away and The Ramones because he always confused them with Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet Of 1812 and The Beatles. 

The way he got so flustered afterwards and the way his cheeks would burn a blaring fire engine red while he tried to stumble over his words, claiming it was his favorite song and he swore he knew it and he was just testing me. Once, I heard what he mumbled under his breath because he said it too loudly that time, but he said: “how could I like you if you didn’t know my taste in music?” It was fast, and I was clearly not supposed to have heard it, so I just acted like he didn’t say a word. 

However, his comment gave me confidence. Maybe if I asked him out now he wouldn’t say no. You know, since he likes me like that too. So I planned it. I planned out the night I would ask him out. 

There would be his favorite flowers (rhododendrons) that I picked up from the store, and I’d reserve his favorite table at the back of Revolutionary Pancakes, the one next to the juke box and the big window to see how brightly the stars shone and how delicate the moon appeared. I’d ask Martha to set up the flowers for me beforehand on the table, and it would be after seeing that new French movie Alex had been dying to see on the day he was typically the most relaxed: Thursday. 

If I planned every minor detail now, there would be no room for mistakes, and it would all go perfectly, and I already knew Revolutionary Pancakes was open at night. A lot of people would question it, but when you’re near a college full of craving teenagers, you have to be prepared for eighteen to twenty one year old's demanding black coffee with ten Splenda sugar packets and four stacks of buttermilk pancakes at three in the morning as they type their essays due in three hours so aggressively it’s a miracle their laptops don’t catch on fire. 

Thankfully, Martha, the woman who managed Rev. Pancakes, used to work in an orphanage before she met her husband, so she knew exactly how to deal with hormones. 

A couple of times I had seen her in here with sophomore girls who had been dumped by their senior boyfriends for an international woman whom he had met while on his trip studying abroad. She would sit them down and remind them he didn’t mean shit and that she should be more focused on her finals next week rather than some boy. And as she would make them come up with a list of all their worst qualities, she would be making a Neapolitan ice cream milkshake blend, free of charge. 

It was quite the miracle Martha was ever awake. She was in her early sixties and a plump woman with a round face and grey hair, except for the few stragglers of her brunette hair still hanging on. She was up so late at night and I never saw her drink anything with caffeine ever. She was always so cheerful and she always knew how to help. If you were enough of a regular and ordered the same thing, when she saw your face pop up at the window, she would automatically get your order going without you having to say a word. 

Despite me only being a college freshman, I had been going to Revolutionary Pancakes since I was a freshman in high school (and it shows in my order). It took her a record time of two weeks to get my order down pat: white hot chocolate with whipped cream and a chocolate drizzle with a short stack of blueberry pancakes and a side order of crispy bacon and yogurt. Now she asks me if I want my usual or not, because my palette had expanded, but most of the time I stuck to my usual order because let’s face it, I’m a kid at heart. 

My plan had been perfectly set in motion, and was going fantastic (meaning Martha agreed to set out the flowers at the requested table) until Tuesday morning, I woke up to the sounds of a male bowing down to the porcelain kings. 

“No! No, no, no, no!” I screamed. 

Alex appeared before me, bags under his eyes, a patchy five o’clock shadow poking through his chin, holding his stomach and his hair was stuck to his face with sweat. “I’m sorry, did me dying upset you?”

“No, I just. . . Don’t want you to be sick is all. . .”

“Yeah, sure.” Alex’s voice sounded very upset, and it was understandable. I sounded like a jackass who really didn’t give a crap about him. He turned to walk away. 

“Alex,” I started. He stopped, he pivoted to face me expectantly. When it took me a minute to compose my thoughts, he cleared his throat. 

“Well?”

“Come here.” I held out my arms for him to step into. 

His expression dropped. He no longer looked angry, just shocked. He hesitated and I saw it. He wanted to hug me. Alex bit his lip and started to unfold his arms slowly, but as the gears turned, coming to a sudden halt, his arms flew from his torso down to his sides and his face was twisted in some expression I couldn’t read. “No,” he insisted. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

"You won't get me sick."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do, because I will take precautions and I will take a shower right after, if it makes you feel better." 

Alex bit his lip and inched toward me. I could tell he didn't believe me, so I took one step closer to him. He held out his arms, and I was genuinely shocked that he went along with it, reluctant as it may be. 

I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and his torso, squeezing lightly, letting him know in a subtle way that I was here for him, in sickness and in health. 

"Hey, why don't I make you a bowl filled with some Neapolitan ice cream and you just watch some cartoons? How does that sound?"

Alex smiled slightly, he seemed happy and content while still being disoriented, almost like he went to the dentist, they gave him laughing gas at too high of a dosage and he got actually high off of it. His body sunk into my shoulder so that his entire weight was depending on the strength of my upper body's abilities to contain a grown, sick man on my arm so that he didn't fall.

I walked him over to the couch and laid him down, covering him in a blanket, tucking him in on the sides so he didn't get cold as he cuddled into it, soaking in the comfort it gave, he kind of reminded me of a little kid, it was cute. 

Shortly after I finished setting him up, he just unravelled the blanket burrito to get the remote anyway, so my doing that was kind of utterly pointless, but Alex, was sick, he needed to be coddled. I knew him long enough to know his healthcare habits and enough to know he definitely would not be taking care of himself.

I maneuvered my way into the kitchen and opened the freezer. I poked around and found chocolate ice cream, vanilla ice cream, and no strawberry ice cream or Neapolitan ice cream, which was strange since Neapolitan ice cream was Alex’s favorite flavor and I could have sworn we had some just the other day. Though, maybe we ran out. Besides, we always did our grocery shopping on Tuesday mornings, since neither of us had classes Tuesday morning. The store we went to always stocked with produce on Tuesdays, but it was currently Tuesday afternoon and I supposed we forgot to get it when we went out, so I’d have to wait a week and then I could go out buy some more Neapolitan ice cream for Alex.

Since we were out of strawberry ice cream and Neapolitan ice cream, I resorted to the next best thing and checked the actual fridge, where I found some nice strawberries I could add those to the side of the ice cream, maybe. Or, I could have made milkshake with the vanilla and chocolate ice creams and strawberries. I weighed my options and eventually decided on the latter of the two because milkshakes just sounded a lot more fun than a boring, predictable bowl of ice cream. Plus, this option (to me, at least, I knew Alex disagreed with me on this) was a lot less messy and it was easier to control.

So I snagged a couple sundae glasses we had in our cabinets and I made the milkshakes. I hoped that the blender wasn't too loud and Alex could still hear his cartoons, but it was quick blending so it didn't matter too much in the long run.

I poured the mixes into the glasses (not too gracefully might I add, I spilled quite a bit on the counter and needed to wipe it up), added some whipped cream to the tops of both, and brought in the glasses on a tray along with some chocolate and caramel syrups and some sprinkles on the side. 

Alex trained his eyes on me upon my entrance and stared at the glasses, confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a dick, but I’m sick so I get a free pass, where are the bowl of ice cream, my dear Laurens?” He knee full well what was in the glasses. 

Ouch, the last name alone. He only called me by my last name when he was extra upset with me. When he was only mildly unhappy with something I did, it was John Laurens, and most of the time, it was John, indicating he wasn’t at all upset with me for anything. 

“We were out of strawberry and Neapolitan so i mixed vanilla, chocolate, and actual strawberries to make a semi-Neapolitan milkshake. Ta da!” I presented the tray with a single jazz hand, almost like a jazz waiter. 

He smiled. “Okay, J. Thank you very much!” That was something else he’d started doing. Calling me J. That, I had no idea what it meant other than “I’m not about to kill you,” which I suppose was nice. I’ll take it. 

I reached over and ruffled his soft hair, furthering my inability to differentiate between Alexander, the college student and my roommate, and Alex, the little six year old boy I was babysitting, or at least until he grabbed my wrist and with extreme strength squeezed, and in a low, gravelly voice, muttered, “Do it, and I kill you, Laurens.”

I retracted my limb, I preferred when it was attached to my body rather than when it was detached. 

I was genuinely not in the mood to lose a whole ass arm because my crush was extremely upset with me. 

He snatched his completed milkshake and started sucking it down as if it was oxygen and he couldn’t breathe. 

By the time Thursday rolled around, Alex was still getting sick, so there was no way we were going to Revolutionary Pancakes with him like that, so I would just have to improvise. I wasn’t moving the day I was going to ask him out, and I’d have preferred not to ask him out a week later, so i was still going to do it the same day, it would just be changed to fit Alex’s health. 

Maybe when he got better, though, I’d take him to Revolutionary Pancakes and explain to him what my original plan was to ask him out and call it a make up dinner. I hoped he wouldn't mind, but for now I had to run down to Revolutionary Pancakes anyway and pick up the rhododendron's I left with Martha, or as she insisted I called her around other customers, Mrs. Washington.

Right now, he was resting in his room, the door was mostly closed, however it had been left slightly ajar, enough for someone to slip by and him to not know. Which was what I did, and i had been expecting him to be sleeping, but he was sitting up right, his eyes narrowly focused on the book in his lap. He had folded one side of the pages behind the other, the bigger part of the book. It was a paperback so it had allowed him to do so, otherwise he'd break the binding of the book -- book lesson one-oh-one that I had learned when I first asked him about it, the first time I ever saw him doing that.

On his wall, his TV was playing, though it was hardly audible. It would have been impossible to make out anything they were saying because it had been so low, but he had the captions on, so it wasn't as impossible as I had thought it would be.

Honestly, the reason he was reading but also had his TV on with captions was beyond me. I supposed he couldn't decide on what he wanted to do, not that I had an issue with it, I just didn't understand fully, so I cleared my throat lightly and I knocked on the door gently, not wanting to disturb him too much.

I had come in with a note in my hands, the note explaining I had to go out for a little bit and if he needed anything he could just text me and I'd get it because I hadn't wanted to disturb his sleeping, but since he wasn't really sleeping I didn't mind as much disturbing him. I knew it took about four minutes to get into a book and I'd be gone for a lot, lot longer than four minutes, so Alex would have had plenty of time to get back into the story if I had interrupted his reading.

Alex moved his glasses that had been pushing his hair back to the bridge of his nose and angled his head more upwards so that he'd be able to actually make me out. His body was on top of his beige duvet, his legs crossed at the ankles, and his right arm crossed over his stomach, holding his book to the side for him to read with his left arm crossed over his stomach as well, but slightly above his right arm.

Yet again, he peered at me expectantly. And once again, I had been distracted, too caught up observing him, longing for him to be mine, and I just wanted to leap over his bed and kiss him right now. Maybe I would, maybe that was how I'd ask him out. I'd surely catch his virus, though maybe he was better. He hadn't been sick since earlier this morning, but I couldn't be sure of what he was eating, so there was no real way to tell if he was truly alright or not. it would have been worth it, though. If I reached over his book, kissing him while sick, if I managed to get sick. It might have been the idea of a crush blurring my mind and my ability to reason with myself, but it seemed like a very good and very romantic thing to do to get him to be mine.

My mouth dropped open. I tried to come up with words, however nothing came out but a strange, elongated noise that made it sound like I was having trouble breathing.

I have to go out. I'm going to go out. I'll be back. That was what I tried to say. I had no control over my actions. I was stuck and my body was doing more than I what I was telling it to do. Alex was confused, I was confused. Neither of us had any idea what I was doing or what my end goal was.

Actually, that was a lie, I knew what my end goal was, but I didn't want it to happen like this, that was not what my body wanted, though. 

My body couldn’t stop moving. I couldn’t stop myself. 

Alex’s judgmental rues followed my body. He was close and I could feel his hot breath on mine. I hadn’t realized I was now straddling his waist, our lower bodies rubbing against one another. 

“Laurens.. what are you doing?” he inquired. 

I didn’t say anything. 

I leaned in. 

Our lips were together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bowing to the porcelain kings is throwing up  
> my history teacher said it and i loved it

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so so so sorry for all the French. I don't remember what all of it means?  
> I wrote this nearly a year ago and I just finished it literally yesterday.


End file.
